That's President Capone to You
by pinkxjellybean
Summary: What if Kahmunrah had taken over the world? Al Capone would become president, right? This is a collec tion of short stories based on that idea. It gets better, I promise. AmeliaXAl... maybe... mild Ahk/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Kahmunrah's plan for world domination had succeeded and Al Capone was now self-appointed President of the United States.

President Capone put his heels up on the desk top, savoring the lavish office space that he now called his own.

'Mama always said that if I applied myself someday I might be my own boss and get to work from home. For once, Mama was right,' Capone grinned and lit a cigar.

'This is the easiest job in the world,' Capone thought on, 'I don't really do much but sign my name on papers and make sure I don't push that big red button in the drawer, and chill.'

"MR. PRESIDENT!"

'There goes my happy…'

"Mr. President?" Karr, Capone's assistant person, was standing way too close to the desk.

"Karr?"  
"Yessir?"

"What's the rule?"

"Don't mess with your groove?"  
"The other one."

Karr took a few steps back, getting safely outside of the President's personal space, "Sir, we have a problem."

"I figured, or else you wouldn't be here. What is it?"

"Sir, Russia has declared war on us!"

"Ivan," Capone hissed under his breath, sitting back up, he then fell into a thoughtful silence, "What is in Russia?"  
"Sir?"

"What's in Russia that's so valuable?"

"Thousands of human lives, sir."

Capone looked at Karr with a blank stare, and Karr sorta sighed, there was no reasoning with him when he got like this.

"Snow,,, and some goats?"

"Alright here's what we's gonna go. We gonna get all the snow, devide it evenly among the states, and keep the goats, then nuke the futz outta Ivan."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"  
Gallucio, Capone's body guard jumps forward, "You questionin' the boss, pencil neck?"

"Uh, no?" Karr asked

"The big red button is mine, right? I can blow up any one I like right?" Capone asked, affirming.

"That's not quite how it works-"

"Russia has declared war on us, and I don't wanna send any of our boys over there to get killed."

"So you're going to nuke Russia?"

"Hey, maybe you ain't as dumb as they say," Capone gets up to call for the nukes, leaving Karr standing there.

"Who says I'm dumb?"


	2. Chapter 2

"See, Karr, Russia really wasn't all that great, or else they'd have some sorta nuclear defense system or somethin'," Capone said reclining in his chair, "We avoided war with Russia, and we got rid of some of the extra nukes we had lyin' around. All in all, I'd say it was a job well done."

"Sir, we don't really need- nukes are-," Karr sighed, "Never mind."

0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0

"What's on the schedule for today, pencil neck?" Capone asked Karr.

"Um, Mr. Capone, I thought I had explained that your, and your associates calling me pencil neck offends me, and makes me feel bad, sir."  
"You say that like I really care. Now, pencil neck, what's on the to do list?"

Karr let out a sigh and looked down at the itinerary, "You have a meeting with the Secretary of Defense to discuss the situation in the Middle East."  
"There's a situation?"

"Yes."

"Since..?"

"That's what you can discuss with the Secretary," Karr explained, trying to get out of the office as soon as was possible.

"Wait wait wait," Capone got up, and put his arm around the narrow staffer, "a secretary you say?"

"Yes?"

"She smokin'?" Capone asked.

"Uh…………….. I'm gonna go get your coffee now."

"Two sugars and a side of-"

"Side of gin, I know. I know," Karr grumbled going out the door.

"Alright," Capone dismissed his twelve bodyguards from the office, and set himself back behind his desk.

The door yielded way to the secretary… who frankly was a far cry from Capone;s expectation of a proper secretary, "You can't be a secretary. You're a Johnny… n a geezer…"

"I'm Secretary of Defense, not your personal secretary, sir. That would be Ms. Murphy out in the front office," Secretary of Denfense Johnson stated, "We need to discuss the situation in the Middle East. Now, I won't sugar coat it, sir, we face a dilemna. We're losing support from the people and the representative bodies when it comes down to the conflict. Our options are-"

"So, wait, let me see if I understand. You's a secretary, but you ain't one?"

"Sir, our situation is precarious, and I need you to understand-"

"You's just a member of my cabinet, right?"

"Yes… but I am highly qualified to-"

"As president I think that you are unqualified."

"In what way?" demanded Johnson.

"Well, frankly you's a ugly old man."  
"Is that all? Why, that's a violation of the Equal Protection Clause! That's discrimination!"

"Johnny," Capone got up and went to the other side of the counter, "It ain't just that. What with the economy in the state it's in, we gonna have to downsize. I'm sorry, but it's just business."

Johnson stood up quickly, "You'll regret this, sir, if I do say so myself."

0x0x0x0x0x0x0

"So let me see if I understand," Karr said, looking at Capone's new cabinet members, "You fired the original cabinet members because they were-"

"Fugley old folks," Capone nodded.

"Right, and replaced them with-"

"The candidates for Miss America," Capone nodded proudly.

"And you foresee no negative reprecautions for this decision?" Karr asked.

"No, not really. I think it was a great idea, but that's just me. What'd you guys think.

There were of course words of agreement from the mafiosos that lingered about the room as Capone's body guards.

"See?" Capone asked, "Lighten up, pencil neck, what could possibly go wrong?"

Karr walked over to Ms. South Carolina, "Why do you think it is that one third of the United State citizens can't point out the US on a world map?"

"I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, uhmmm, some people out there in our nation don't have maps and uh, I believe that our, I, education like such as uh, South Africa, and uh, the Iraq, everywhere like such as, and I believe that they should, uhhh, our education over here in the US should help the US, uh, should help South Africa, it should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future, for our children," stumbled Ms. Carolina.

Karr just glanced at Capone as if to say that Ms. Carolin had just proved his point.

"She ain't gonna be secretary of Education or nothin' like that."

"No?"

"Naw, she's gonna be secretary of state."

"Say what?"

"She can find the US on a world map," Capone beamed.

"She's pointing to Canada…"


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: sorr this one's so short. It's sorta a bunch of ideas i wanted to use, and had no where else really to put them so i threw them together in one chapter.**

Al was watching tv with Karr which always proved boring, as Karr insisted that Al watch educational tv, so that he could further his mind. So, here he was. Sitting next to his assistant, watching a national geographic special on the Australian bearded lizard.

"Holy futz! That reptile's got swag!" Al stood up quick.

"Excuse me, sir?" Karr sat up, not nearly as quickly as his boss.

"That scaly lizard has swag!" Al repeated, "I just got an idea!"

"Oh, joy."

"Call my tailor, and have him make twenty hundred lizard sized pin stripe suits and fedoras. Then call my weapons man and have him make little tommys for every lizard."  
"Are you saying you want two thousand bearded lizards under your employ?" Karr asked.

"I want two thousand swag lizards." Al said, "and a chocolate milkshake," Al pressed the intercom button on his desk, "Polly, can you come in here and get my lunch order, baby?"

Polly, a cute secretary of twenty three years, blond and thin, Karr would turn red when ever she enter his line of sight, "Yes, Mr. Capone?" she opened her notepad to take down the order.

"I'll have a chocolate milk shake, and a large pizza, with pepperoni, sausage, and anchovies. Oh, and ask if they can do that thing where they put cheese in the crust."

"Alright, Mr. President. Can I get you anything, Karr?"  
"Uh, n-no. I'm good."

"Alright," Polly left the room.

"What's eatin' you, Karr? You goofy on that dame or something?"  
"I'm busy trying to balance your desire for a lizard army and the fact that you have a press conference tomorrow to explain the mysterious absence of Russia."

"Boss's got this bushwah down, pencil neck," Nitti, one of Capone's associates, stated.

"Forgive me if I lack your certainty on the matter."  
"What' that supposed to mean?" Al asked.

"Have you seen our approval rates?"  
"Have I?"  
"That was the paper I gave to look over last night, and you gave it to Gallucio to color on."

"I got the pony through the maze," Gallucio held up the paper.

"There wasn't a… oh forget it."s


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I have been asked to include what happened to the other canon characters, and I realize that this is a vague request that i have tried to cater to as best as i can. I ask you, the readers, to tell me what characters in particular you want to read about. I have included Napoleon, and to a mild extent Kahmunrah. If there is anyone you want to read about, let me know. **

**Also, I was wondering if it would make any sense for my oc to be in this story. I seriously want folks opinions here, so that means you have to review. I know what a burden it must be to you guys to click the little icon at the bottom of the chapter and type a few words stating that you do or don't like what I'm writing. But compare the short quick process of reviewing to the considerably longer process of writing, typing, editing, re-reading, and finally loading this thing in. Just think about that for a minute.**

Capone stood behind the podium, the only real barrier between himself and the press hounds, who shouted question at him.

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, "If you all could… Please one question at a…." he glanced at Galucio.

The stout man shouted over all the hubbub, "PUT A CORK IN IT!"

The voices more or less fell silent.

"Thank you," Capone said, "Now, if we could have one question at a time-"

They started up again, and Gallucio had to quiet them down again.

"Alright, y'know what? Here's what we're gonna do. If you have a question, you gonna quietly raise your hand. Ok?"  
Every hand on the floor went up.

"Alright… uh, you, down front, with the face," he pointed to a stocky middle aged gent with salt and pepper hair combed back over his balding head, "Yes, Mr. President, there have been reports that Russia has turned into a crater, as is generally due to a nuclear explosion."  
Capone nodded for a few seconds, "… was there a question somewhere in there?"

There were nervous chuckles.

"Well, sir, are you responsible for that fact?" asked the stocky man, relatively nervously.

Capone clicked his tongue at the question, "Why are you guys always blaming me for everything?" he asked, "I mean, what have I ever really done to make you all feel as if I'm capable of all sorts of terrible things."  
"Well, Mr. President," A young, but plain faced woman stood, "you are the only one with in this country with access to the nuclear codes. If you didn't do it,it would have to be Kahmunrah, or Napoleon. We are the only country that Ivan Vasilyevich declared war on, so it would make sense to assume that you were to blame for the demise of Russia."

Capone sighed, "You know what, yeah, I nuked the futz outta Russia, and given the choice, I'd do it again. Know why? Because it saved American lives. If you study history, you know what happens when you go to war with Russia. You go to old school war with Russia and you die. I wasn't the one who declared war, that was Ivan. I ain't got nothing against him personally, but when he threatens the lives of the people who trust me to ensure their safety. And I did."

"Do you think that maybe peace talks with Russia would have been possible to have peace talks with Ivan?" asked another press agent, a tall slender African American woman.

"Ma'am, if you had ever worked with Ivan, you would know that he don't listen to reason. You gotta take blows with blows. That's how we do. You can quote me directly. If there aint no more questions, I've got alotta work to do, thank you," he calmly exited out stage left.

Back in his office Karr sat on one of the plush couches, "well, sir, if I may say so, you have rid me of any confidence I may have had in our press."  
"You're welcome," Capone sat back behind his desk, "any messages?"  
"Yes, Lord Kahmunrah sent an email requesting that you stop being stupid," Karr said.

Capone let out a snort, "I can't stop being what I never was."

Karr nodded slowly, "I guess not, sir. Oh, you have France on line one."

Capone groaned and sat up, reaching for the phone receiver, "Hello?"

"Hello?" Napoleon said loudly, but sounded far away.

"Nippy, you're talking into the wrong end again."

There was the sound of Italian and French swear words, and the phone cord testified that it was being flipped in to the proper situation, "I am here."  
"What can I do for you, my friend?" Capone asked.

"Stop being stupid!"  
"Why does everyone say that to me?"  
"Because you nuke Russia!"

"Yeah yeah yeah, I nuke Russia. If I didn't nuke Russia, he'd nuke me."

"Why you so stupid? You know we all must remain a strong united force, oui? You know that Daley man child's child is trying to start up a fire that would consume us all."

"What, you want me to rub out a kid?"  
The was an extended sigh, "I just think we could all reap the success that could be won from you cooling yourself, and stop ordering lizards!"  
"That's a tall order from someone who reopened the Bastille."

A quick line of swearing, then a sigh, "Just pray you don't ever get a visit from Kahmunrah, "Because the day you do id the day you lose everything?"

"Everything?"  
"Everything from the neck up."

**Please Review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Ok, in here I tell what happened to Jed, and to a minor extent to Larry and Ahk. If there is another character you want to know about let me know in a review. And I still want to hear from any one who read Guardians on the topic of whether or not it makes sense for Frankie to pop up in here.**

**Oh, quick warning, this chapter should be rated T simply for drug reference.**

Karr sat down on the plush couch next to Capone, a tub of popcorn in hand. He turned up thevolume on the tv as it began to speak, "History of the Potato, episode 8..."

"I seriously want to know why they need so many chapters to tell about potatoes," Capone moaned miserably.

"Because it is a seriously complex organism!" gushed the ever excited Karr, bouncing excitedly.

Capone leaned forward slowly, and began whacking his head on the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" Karr asked, mildly concerned, but for the most part confounded.  
"Hoping I'll black out if my cranium suffers enough blunt force."

"...By the turn of the century, the potato had become somewhat of a staple in the diet of londoners, but in a strange way..." the tv voice droned on.

A historian, apparently an edxpert on poatoes began droning on about fish and chips.

"Who in their right mind would spend all that dough on college to learn bout some stupid root?" capone muttered to himself, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The potato is a very important, and affordable vegetable," The potato expert drones on.

"You know what's a really important, and affordable veggie?" Capone asks, jokingly, "Hash."

"What?" Karr asked, the drug reference going right over his head.

"Nevermind, pencil neck," Capone said, settling back. From the corner of his eye, he noticed, Karr hanging on the every word of the television set, "are you gettin' kicks offa this?"  
"Yeah, I mean, who would have figured that potatoes can be so interesting?"  
"And you wonder why you can't get yourself a doll."

"What did you just say?"  
"I think you know. Youse a wet noodle, pencil neck, and janes like Murphy pick up on that."  
"I am not a wet noodle!" Karr jumped up, defensive.

"Sit Down!" Capone ordered.

Karr obediently dropped back down like a rock, "Yessir."  
"You see what I mean? You gotta take some authority. Nut up, you know?"

"With all due respect, I'd prefer not to take advise on people skills from someone who used to kill people for a living."  
"I didn't get paid for killing them!" Capone objected quickly, "I got paid to get folks blotted outta theirt minds!"

"Oh, and it doesn't matter that it was illegal, so long as you got your money."  
"Well, last time I check we lived in a Capitalist society, and the idea of Pure Capitalism as proposed by Adam Smith states that the government need not interfere with the free market in any way, and I view that as including the prohibition of liquor."  
"Are you saying that you have read Wealth of Nations?"

"I like reading. What, You think I'm stupid or somethin'?"

"Or something..."

0x0x0x0x0x0x0x0  
Capone went over to the hamster cage on his office and put the order of tiny food in the cage with the tiny cowboy, "Eat up, Jed."  
"I dont wanna" the stubborn tiny man said, crossing his arms.

"Jed, we go through this everyday!"

"And that aint bouta change."  
The tiny cowman had been put in Capone's charge after Kahmunrah realized that giving immortality to himself and the other generals, meant that it was extended unto every museum exhibit that had come into contact with the tablet. Capone didn't particularly care, and viewed Jed as a little friend pet, though Jed wasn't overly pleased with it.

The whole immortality thing did of course have it down sides for some. Like Kahmunrah's kid brother. Kahmunrah had taken his brother as his prisoner, and no one really wanted to ask what had happened to him, or Larry Daley.

**So if you want any other characters, or have an opinion on the whole Frankie thing, or just wanna give some feedback, you know what to do.**


	6. Chapter 6

Al walked down the halls to the dining room, where first lady Amelia drummed her fingers on the tabletop, "Mr. Capone, you are tardy again."

Al sighed,"I was held in."

"Oh, really? By what form of catastrophe was it this time?"

"Ya don't wanna know."

"Ido."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"No! You don't!" Al stood, leaning menacing over the table.

"Fine," Amelia said, and began cutting the slice of ham on the plate in front of her.

"Fine, I'll tell you, woman."

Amelia smirked to herself, his process was so simple that it was infact laughable.

"Part eight of The History of Potatoes."

"There is an octet based oon the history of the potato?"

"I think there's more than that."

"That's such folly!" Amelia proclaimed, "I shall have to write them a strongly worded letter!"

"Yeah, baby, you do that and you let me know how it goes."

The pair sit in silence for a moment before Amelia says, "I was thinking, we ought to adopt an african baby."

"We're doing what now?"

"Well, your approval rates are in the toilets, and adopting a poor african baby may boost your numbers."

"Why in hell would I adopt a kid out nippys territory when there's hundreds if not thousands of kids here in america what need adoptin!"

"it would show that he doesn't intimidate you."

"Of course he don't intimidate me none! Who says he does?"

"No one."

"If its on his terf shouldn't he be the one adoptin them babies?"

Amelia sighed, and said in a rather disappointed voice, "I just don't see the need for your prejudices."

"Who's bein' prejudiced?"

"You are of course, you ninny. You won't adopt an african baby because you're afraid of Napoleons wrath!"

Al stared at her levely. The woman had cracked. There was no other explanation to it. She had watched too much of that E! Tv or something, and all those stupid celebs adopting from outside the country because it was easier, they'd brainwashed her.

"you're only sugguesting I adopt from him because he was jawin' you on."

Her face gets pale with the flustering of his words, "Because he was a gentleman!"

Al ?et out a quick snort, "aw, come off it! I saw how he was eyein you, and there's no way the thoughts going through his head were any sorta gentlemanly."

"As if you would know what a gentleman thinks!"

"Hey!" His eyes narrowed, "let's not forget who took you in outta the goodness of his heart! Have I done anything to you) huh? No, honey, I sure ain't. I ain't touched a hair on your head or anywhere else on you for that matter."

Amelia looked down at her plate, "Is there any news of Mr. Daley?"

"No. I wrote another letter, requesting a prisoner transfer, but I don't think dress boy's bout to buy it."

"Will you keep trying?"

"I told you I would, didn't I?" Al shoved his plate back and reached for the crystal decanter of liquor and poured the liquid into his glass, "ya know, this whole business doesn't sit well with me. Ever since I saw that Ahkmenrah kid in shackles. You saw him right? How old he look to you? Nineteen? Twenty?"

"Twenty-two at the oldest."

"Hell, kahmunrah kept goin on bout his kid brother, but I figured they'd atleast be closer in age! He's just a kid! Jesus christo!" Al slumped in his chair, staring into the glass in his hand.

"He isn't that much younger than you, is he, Al?"

"No... I looked him up. He was ruling a country at fifteen. That much responsibility ain't good for a kid, ya know? And Kahmunrah hates him for it, like that fifteen year old kid was just sitting there in his room plotting on how he was gonna rule a whole goddamn country! A fifteen year old oughta be out chasin skirts or somethin like that," Al fell into silent sollomn thoughts.

"What are you saying, Al?"

"This Brave New World's FUBAR."

"FUBAR?"

"'Futzed Up Beyond All Recogniton,'" Al sighed.

"Are you alright?" Amelia asked, reaching across the table to touch his hand. She had never seen him in such a slump before.

"hell if I know anymore."

"Do you sympathize with Ahkmenrah becuase you can relate to him?"

The defensive, cold mask fell baxk in place, "I don't sympathize with no one!"

"You worked from your early teens to support your family, right? Ahkmenarah had to support a whole country. You can relate to the taking on of responsiblity."

The mask of his face smirked, "Baby, you're diggin too far into this," he groaned, pulling himself out of his chair, "I'm going to bed. Night," he gave her shoulder a pat because he couldn't really do anything more, "but seriously, you tell anyone bout this, and..."

She smiled coyly up at him over her shoulder, "and what, Mr. Capone?"

"He smiles, "bad things," this was the closest they ever came to flirting, this playful banter. Like they were each trying to keep their claws sharp.

"Oh, Al, its so cute when you try to be menacing," she purred.

he left for bed, grumbling to himself about damn infuriating women. 


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: This chapter may appear odd, but it is in a way important, as it introduces an important group. As always, reviews make the writer of this tale happy thanks.**

Al rolled out of bed the next morning and began to dress for the day ahead of him. He sat at the breakfast table at eight thirty, late as per usual. He sat across from Amelia and began to tuck into his eggs and bacon.

He scopped more eggs to drop on his plate when he happened to note a small dark skinned boy wearing a tshirt depicting Kenyan amateur boxer Omar Amhed standint at the end of the table, staring at Al with eyes far too large for his face.

"Amelia, I thought we agreed not to adopt an African baby."

Amelia stared back at the boy, "I don't know this child from a hole in the ground, Al."

"So he ain't yours?" Al glanced back at the boy, "Um, who are you?"

The boy gave no reply and continued to stare at Al with his saucer sized eyes.

NDo you have a name?"

Stare...

"Alrighty, well, we shall call you...um," Amelia glanced at the lads shirt, "Omar. We'll call you Omar until we can figure out who you are, alright?"

Stare...

"Ok," Al got up, "Amelia, you call security, and... I'll go to work now," Al slowly started out of the room, slowly, freaked out over the continuous eye contact that the boy was making. He was eager to be away from the wide eyed boy, only to glance over his shoulder and, then back to see the wide eyed boy standing there, staring at him.

"Um, you're gonna stay here, alright, Omar?"

Al could've sworn that the boys eyes got bigger. The boy remained silent. Al lifted the boy by his narrow shoulders and removed Omar from his path, and placed the boy behind him, and continued on the path to the office.

Al walked on until Omar suddenly walked out in front of him. "What the-" Al started before he could stop himself, "How'd you get there, Buddy?"

Stare...

Al felt like his face would melt if he kept looking into the kids eyes,"Ummm, I gotta go to work now.." Al edged around the boy, trying to break eye contact, and the whole time swearing that he would have Karr find out how this boy got in the white house.

Al went into his office and oppened the door where he beheld Gallucio, siiting on a couch infront of the tv set, a chip halfway to his mouth, not blinking like Karr next to him. The two were currently engaged by the unending stare of Omar.

"How? How did you- uggggggh!"

"Boss, who is this runt?" Gallucio asks.

"I call him Omar, and I wanna know how he got in here, who he is and what he-" Al was cut off by the stare of Omar.

"You know, maybe he got seperated from his tour group," Karr offered.

"Oh, are there tour groups at eight in the mornin'?" Al asked sarcastically.

"Not usually," Karr conceded,"I'll go call security."

"Thank you," Al said again, sarcastically, strolling over to his desk, and started reading over the bills on his desk. He signed some, but most recieved the presidental veto and were slid into the outbox (also known as a shredder).

The hairs on the back of Capone's neck stood on end as he became aware of Omar standing beside the desk and staring at him. Not at the bills. At him. Al tried his best to ignore the freakish child for the hour that he waited for Karr to return with the information from the gorillas in security.

When Karr returned there was a full minute before he could pry himself away from the boys stare., and deliver the news, "Um, Mr. President, security was unable to find any footage of Omar entering the premises. We have no idea how he got here."

"What? There's a hole in my security?"

"No, sir, Mr. President, sir. every inch of the exterior is covered by camera feed. There's no explanation for... him," Karr made the mistake of making eye contact with the thing..."He's like that creepy kid that kidnapped salad fingers..."

"Don't be mentioning Salad Fingers under my roof! Creepy ass cartoon," Al grumbled.

Omar stared at Al.

"Uh, so... there's no way to know who this kid is?"

"We could run his dental records, but that could take awhile, and if that doesn't work, I don't know what else we can do."

"Well, I got an idea, Comere," Al wagged his finger, moitioning Karr down level and whispered, "You listenin'?"

Karr grunted an affirmative.

"GET THIS KID AWAY FROM ME!"

Karr covered his ear, wincing, "Oh, god."

"Look, Omar, it's nothin' personal, but you freak me out. Now go play."

Omar's wide eyes dragged Capone into a staring contest of biblical porportions.

"I can't look away... What the futz are you? Karr take this kid out and go play fetch or somethin'."

"Are you telling me to treat a child of a racial minority like a dog? Do you want to commit political suicide?"

"Pencilneck, I don't care what you gotta do! This kid is creepin' me out!"

"Sir, this child is just that, a child and he must be loved and cared for," Karr said.

Al turned Omar's head to look at Karr who suddenly looked like he was about to wet his pants, "Ok! I'll call security!" Karr slowly backed away, "Just quit it!"

Al released the boys head once he'd averted his own eyes, "And get me a pair of dark shades while you're at it."

"Will do," KArr said, leaving the room.

Al sighed at looked at Omar, "what?"

Stare...

"Cat's got your tongue?"

Stare...

"Jesus, all the weirdos come to me," Al looked at Omar, "You hungry?"

Ofcourse the boy didn't reply, he just continued to stare with his wide eyes.

"Ok, I'll order up some grub," Al got on the phone and had Murphy take down his regular lunch order. When it came up, Al seperated a slice for the boy, and offered it to the boy. Omar stared at the president as Al woofed down a slice of his own. The wide eyed boy didn't touch the food placed before him. Al sighed, "You gonna eat or what?"

Omar continued to stare at Al.

"You gotta eat, kiddo, even if you scare the crap outta me."

Stare...

Al turned his chair so his back was to the Staring boy, and resumed eating.

By the end of the day, the boy's presence had almost grown on Capone. And by grown on, Capone meant that he didn't feel himself spiraling into darkness when the kid looked at him. Just as Al started not hating Omar, the boy disappeared, just as suddenly as he appeared in the dining room. He was gone, and security had no clue where he had gone or how.

0x0x0x0x0x0

"So, your mission was a success?" Nick asked the wide eyed spy boy.

the spy nodded, handing over his notes, and his report on the securial layout of the white House as well as the potential physical weaknesses of his body guards and assistants, as well as those of the president himself.

Included was the notice that there appeared to be some animosity between the Pharaoh and the President.

"Do you think Capone would join us, given the choice?" Nick asked Octavius as they read this note.

The tiny general sighed, "Perhaps, but could he ever really be trusted?"

"No, I suppose not," Nick admitted, and was surprised that for some reason his admittance was somewhat reluctant.

**Now, reviews are requested. **


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I know this story's been neglected, and I greatly apologize, as always, reviews are loved.**

First Lady Amelia would have lied to say she was ever mistreated by Al.

This was of course, not to say that he was a gentleman in the conventional meaning of the word. The understanding stood firmly between them that she loved Mr. Daley, a fact that was not about to change just because some well-to-do bootlegger rolled into the picture with his olive oil charm and his dark eyes that shone when he laughed.

It was difficult to view him as attractive when she was well aware of his physical appearance a few years past that point, fat and prematurely bald, the image would sometimes enter her mind, and sometimes she would force the thought, if ever their flirtatious banter pressed too far, that would stop any thing right then and there.

They did not share a bed room, a fact odd for most married couples, but it was better that way, no temptation for Mr. President.

She was however to act the proper part of the first lady, a feat none too difficult. She was well used to reciting pre-written statements for the press.

Some may have joked that she was a better politician than her husband, if her husband were any other politician. Al, himself joked about it, but the members of the press knew better. Big Al knew how to play them all like cheap fiddles, or rather cheap banjoes, in his case. There was no doubt that no matter how rough around the edges Al most definately was, he would have been able to win the office if it hadn't been given to him as a gift. He had a way with spinning accusations into jokes. He was never worried when his choices were questioned. No matter what the idea was, he made it sound good.

While the First couple were most definately the masters of the press, there were every now and then, writers who decided to spice things up.

Across the table one morning, Amelia read about the state dinner she and the president had attended the night before, turning to the next page of the article she let out a huff, "How dare they?"

"How dare who?" Al asked, cracking into the egg in the egg cup on front of his plate. He really wasn't paying too much attention.

"Did that dress last night make me look fat?" she demanded.

"What?" Al's full attention was now captured.

"That dress I was wearing last night. Did it make me look fat?" she was serious.

"No, you looked fine," he was an understatement. Like saying a Tommy was a fast firer, or a cadillac was a nice car, or Louise Brooks had alright legs. The sapphire dress she had worn the night before had looked ravishing on her and it had taken every ounce of his control to pretend not to care.

"Well, explain that, then," she tossed the newspaper across the table at him.

The second page society collumn, middle top was a picture of Mr. and Mrs. President from the night before, poised right over the question "Is a First Baby On The Way?"

"Uh..."

"Don't sit there with that simplistic look on your mug!" Amelia snapped.

"What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that people want us to have a baby!"

"Ok, how's that a problem?"

"Because there isn't a chance of it!"

"Aw, come on. Would it be so bad if we did?"

"Did what?" Amelia demanded.

"Had a kid..."

"Yes, it would be a catastrophe!"

"I'm just sayin' it would look good if we-"

"Don't you dare even ponder it, Mr. Capone! We are not having a child! It's compleletly out of the question!"

"Why? Huh? You was the one what wanted to adopt, yeah? What's the difference?"

"The difference is I don't want to bear your devil spawn."

Al sat forward in his chair suddenly, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"So that would make me the devil, after I took you in and didn't ask for nothin' from you. I'm the devil, after I've been risin' my neck trying to get your lover boy back? I'm the devil?"

Amelia wasn't sure how to respond.

"And my boy, Sonny would be less than human?"

'Oh, dear lord,' Amelia thought, sullen.

"And my Mae was what? A harpie?"

"Well now that it's mentioned..."

Capone leapt from the seat, "You're lucky I was taught not to hit girls," he said, teeth ground, he tossed the egg cup across the room, where it smashed into a million tiny pieces against the wall.

Egg dripped down the wall where the egg cup had hit, and the steamed president left the room for the quiet safety of his office, where he sat in his plush chair behind his desk, and picked up the photo of Sonny, and he let the strongest sense of loss he had ever in his life felt wash over him.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN Sorry for the brevity of this chapter, the wait, as well as for the obsessive use of food in the last few post from me. Iwanted to update, and this was sorta a mishmash rushed chapter, sorry. Hope you like it.**

Al sat down to dinner to find the most putrid of all the vegetables upon his plate next to his steak.

Brocolli...

So close... Too close... The disgusting water seeping from it would surely destroy the savory slab of meaty goodness!

He looked for something anything to defend his steak.

Mashed potatoes. They could be spared for the greater good! Quickly he acted, building a dam to block the water from his steak.

First Lady Amelia glanced at him critically, "Um... Al?"

"Hm?" He crafted the wall, hoping for an air tight seal.

"You really oughtn't to play with your food."

"I ain't playin'! I'm workin'! Who the hell put Brocolli on my plate any way?"

"I did."

"WHY? You know I loathe it with the white hot passion of a million supernovas!"

"You need your vegetables! Brocolli is good for you, and you ought to eat it," she daintilly eat a disgusting little tree.

"How 'bout not? Ok? I'm the President of the United States, an' if I don't wanna eat futzin' Brocolli, I ain' gonna! Now make me a sammich."

Amelia stared at him, "What?"

"You heard me, woman, I wants sammich."

"I'm not making you a sandwich. Eat your dinner."

"MAKE ME A SAMMICH!"

"No."

"Why?"

"Well, first off, it's a sandWICH! Second, you have your dinner. Why should I have to make you more food."

Al sighed. "No, not a really sandwich... Look, I'll lay it out for you. it's like in World of Warcraft. When you totally pwn some noob, you proclaim that said noob gots to go make you a sammich. It is a statement that proclaims victory, and as I have killed your argument, you makes me a sammich. Capite? (understand)"

"What is 'World of Warcraft'?" Amelia asked.

"Some dorky thing Karr plays," Al shrugged, trying to figure out how to better fortify his potato wall.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN Sorry for the long wait, I'm trying to get all my stuff updated. Please review.**

Al sat dulled out of his mind on the sofa as Karr forced him to watch the History Channel Special on the History of the dust under the sock drawers.

Alright, it wasn't actually that, but it might as well have been, it was so boring.

Al noticed suddenly that Karr was mouthing the words to the special, "Uh, Pencil neck? How many times you seen this?"

"Fourteen. Why?"

"I can't stand it!" Al jumped to his feet, "I'm getting you a moll!"

" A what?"

"A girl, you great ignoramus!"

"Oh, I don't know... Mom doesn't really like me dating..."

"Does your mother live in your appartment?"

"No..."

"Well then, what's the problem?"

"I live in her apartment."

"Oh, Jesus," Al sat back down next to him, "Well, your momma wants granbabie right?"

"She doesn't like children," Karr said, quietly.

"Madre santa del dio! Ok, Look I don't gove a fart what momma likes and don't you're gettin' some!"

"Oh... I dont know... can't we just watch the tv?"

"No! this is far more important! You like Murphy, right?"

"Polly's pretty... she doesn't even know I exist."

"Well," Al stood, pulling Karr to his feet, "She does now," he chucked the boy out the door, where he stumbled to a stop next to the secretary's desk.

"Whoa, careful, uh, Karr, right?" she asked.

Karr's mouth opened, and no worded came out. He reminded Polly of a fish. He turned on his heel, and started back through the door, only to have Al shove him back out.

Gallucio came up behind Capone, who was fidgeting with a security monitor, "What's cooking, Boss?"

"I got pencil neck jawin' up Polly."

"You got what? Oh, so much better than the tv thing."

They peered at the grainy feed.

"So... uh... how 'bout them Nationals?" Karr said, nervously.

"It's January... the season's over..." Polly said.

THe mafiosos laughed, "What a dingdong," Gallucio sniggered.

"I got hope for this kid."

"I don't really watch sports," Karr admitted.

"Me neither. I much prefer the History Channel," she said, blushing, "Is that dorky or what?"

"No! I love the History Channel!" Karr said, brightening, "Did you see the thing about the potato?"

"Oh, I loved it!"

"Oh, no way!" Gallucio exclaimed, "No way a girl that pretty's that dull!"

Al laughed, "Funny ol' world. These two worked ten feet from eachother for months, and never spoke."

"Gee, Yer like god or somethin' Boss."

"Yeah, it's a gift."

"So, um, would you wanna go out to get a drink or something after work?" Karr asked.

"Oh, um, I have plans... but I'm free tomorrow."

"Great, so I'm gonna go back to work, and I will see you then."

When Karr reented, the two men behind the desk were watching him, "So I have a date."

"What 'bout mama?" Al asked.

"I'm a big boy now!" Karr proclaimed.

"Sucha dork," Gallucio said, walking away, "Oh, hey, Boss, you filmed that right?"

"Oh, of course!" Al grinned, "Wanna watch it again?"

"What are we watching?" Karr asked as they jammed the cassette into the VCR.

"The best thing ever!"


	11. Chapter 11

**AN Ok, this chapter may be sorta weird, so I will explain what inspired me. My family is friends with this cool jewish guy from New York named Spike. I kid you not. That is his legal name. Anyway, he introduced us to his mother, who was one of those overdramatic, stereotypical jewish mothers. Upon meeting her, I had to create a character based in her. **

**I do not own Turtle Park, Facebook, Phantom of the Opera, Gerald Butler, Cheetos, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, or doilies. If I did, I would not be a starving college student.**

**Also, there is drug reference in here... sorta alot...**

Al opened a small plastic jar, and poured the green leafy contents over the slice of pizza he was eating.

Karr happened to walk in to the room at that point and froze, "What are you DOING!"

Capone froze, "Um... preparing to devour a delicious slice of pizza pie?"

"With (weed) on it?" Karr asked the whole question in a normal voice, exept for the imfamous "w" word.

"Um... with oregano on it... weirdo," Capone mumbled, munching on his slice.

"Oh... ok. i just thought you were partaking in illegal drug activity. Whew."

"Yeah, I try to keep that after hours, if I can. But you know then the kitchen's closed, I got the munchies, I really want some cheetoes, but Phantom of the Opera's on, and well, you know... I gotta sit there and listen to Gerald Butler's amazing voice, in the serious hopes that he's gonna 300 kick Raoul into the sewers..."

"You're mocking me, aren't you?" Karr asked, unamused.

"You ever listened to Carlotta's annoyin'-ass wannabe voice while trippin' billies?"

"Unbelievable..." Karr shook his head.

"Yeah, you know, that's why my face is this color."

"What?" Karr asked, confused.

"Well, see, I do so much coke, my face just took the color."

"Ok, I'm sorry I assumed drug usage, Jesus. You really take things too far sometimes."

Al laughed, "I accept your apology. See, I accept, because I'm a bigger person. I don't walk in, see you watching tv, and assume that you're watching some geek show that makes it clear that you're a virgin."

"Oh, you want to make fun of tv preferences? When was the last time you missed a Glee episode?"

The smile fell off of Al's face, "You leave Glee outta this."

Karr took the warning, "Ok, sorry again."

"Ok, so you got your date with Murphy tonight, right?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, so you're not gonna wear your hair that way right?" Al asked, dead serious.

"Is there another way to wear it?"

"Oh, dear god... What are you gonna wear?"

Karr gestured to the cheap suit he wore.

"Please, sweet jesus, tell me that was a joke."

There was no apparent intention to confirm the suspiction.

"Ok. I'm done for the day, we are going to your apartment... or is it your momma's apartment? I can't remember."

*half an hour later*

"Ok, just please don't embarrass me in front of my mom, and if you can avoid it, which you probably can't, you really don't need to talk to her at all," Karr said.

"Ok, how bad could it be?" Al asked, jokingly.

Karr stared at him, "Seriously? You don't want to know."

He unlocked the door, and an elderly woman's rather obnoxious voice shouted from within, "I'm an armed policeman! Don't steal my nicknacks!"

"Mom, it's me... again, Karr said.

"O, thank you, Jaysus! I thought I was being burgled again!" she was a squat old woman, who was clearly not armed, or a policeman.

"For the last time, Mom, burglers don't have keys to the apartment."

"You never know these days!" He squinted at Al, "Who's ya friend, Eugene?"

"Your first name's Eugene?" Al snorted.

"This is my boss, Mom," Karr said, bright red, "We're gonna go to my room now-"

"Now, it's not everyday I get to meet the president. Come here, lemme get a good lookit you," she yanked his head down by his tie, and squinted through her coke bottle lenses at him, "Well, aren't you a handsome one? You got something on ya face," she licked her thumb and rubbed Al's cheek.

"Well, thank you, ma'am. Here I was, marchin' 'round with somethin' on my face!" Al said.

"You know," Mrs. Karr said, releasing Al's tie, "I'm so glad Eugene's gettin' out and makin' friends... So glad," she pulled out a photo album from a doily covered shelf with all sorts of tacky nicknacks, "Would you like to see Eugene's baby pictahs?"

"Mom-"

"Now this is Eugene as a baby at the Turtle Park down there in South East, back before that became such a bad place."

"It's not that bad, Mom..."

"And this is Eugene without his diaper! Isn't that a cute little tushie?" Mrs. Karr asked.

"Yes, Ma'am, it is indeed," Al said.

*Two hours later*

"And this is Eugene at Prom... Lookit that hair, it's just all over. Ya know he got his hair from his father's side of the family. So unruly! Not like moine at all!"

"I should think not," Al said, sitting on the couch next to her, "He clearly could've done with more of you in him, if I may say."

"Oh, Mr. Capone, you silver tongued man, you."

Karr was slumped down in an arm chair across the room. This was the worst day of his life. Worst. Ever.

"And you know the weathah down here is just terrible! So humid all the time. Now New York, that's weather!"

Karr cleared his throat, "Um, sir... the time... we'll be late for the POKER GAME if we don't hurry."

"The what?" Al asked.

"The poker game. With MURPHY!"

"Oh, yeah, right... Well, my dear Edna, I must deprive myself of your charming company, to try to turn this pumpkin in to a carriage."

The old woman snorted, "Good luck with that."

Karr's bedroom was the epitome of dorkiness. He had a Star Trek Recruitment poster on his wall, the Battle of Pelenor Fields laid out in perfection of scale and accuracy on the book shelf. From his ceiling hung a Death Star, with little X-Wings around it, and a Millenium Falcon souring nearby.

"You would never guess YOU were single," Al said, sarcastically, digging through Karr's drawer. He glanced back to see Karr wearing a vintage New Hope tee shirt, "Ok... we can work with this... maybe... These jeans, those shoes, and this blazer. Now change."

"I can't..."

"Why?"

"Are you just gonna stand there and watch me?"

"Yes. It's how I get my jollies, watching nerdy skinny guys strip," Al turned to face the wall, "Hurry up."

Al had to admit that Karr looked mildly presentable. So, bidding farewell to Edna, they departed.

"What was all that about, anyway?" Karr demanded.

"What was what about, Eugene?"

"You schmoosing my mom..."

"Oh, that. She's like most Mother's born and bred in the Big Apple. I just know how to work them over. You see, if you ignore them, they get more annoying. Pretend you love them, and they're tickled pink. Plus, from the looks of it, she ain't got a lotta company."

Karr rolled his eyes, "So add her on Facebook, and you guys can be friends."

"What's Facebook?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

They were outside, the apartment building.

"Hey, you take the caddie," Al said.

"What?" Karr glanced at the chaufered cadillac towncar, "I don't know if I-"

"You wanna impress a skirt, you gotta do it right. And believe me when I say, Cadillac, that's all sortsa right."

"Thanks, man," Karr said, smiling.

"Yeah, you hug me, and Ima uppercut you. Go on, pencilneck."

And like that, President Capone started walking in what he hoped was the right direction. And if it wasn't, eh, he could have an adventure.


	12. Chapter 12

Al knew the area he was in well enough to find his way to the National Mall. He hadn't been in a few weeks. He used to come there a lot. No one really noticed him so much here after dark. He walked under the trees, and over the grass.

No one really bothered him, which some might have considered strange; a well dressed man walking down the Mall after dark, or sitting on a bench, at his leisure, and no one really pestered him.

Now and then, someone would ask him for some change, and he'd drop a couple singles in the cup held out to him.

"You keepin' dry, Jeffry?" Al asked.

"Yes sir, hasn't rained in a few weeks..."

Al smiled, ignoring the lack of understanding between himself and the man, and he continued on past the man to the bench he usually sat upon. He looked at the Castle, looming over to the side, he middle of the Mall, pondering how long it had been since he had set foot in the Museums, and the people who had had to rebuild them after those manic nights.

Al tilted his head back, glancing at the Capitol Dome, noted the light on, and reminded himself to ask Karr what Congress was doing in session so late at night.

He hadn't known the light meant that Congress was in session, until he had met a kid. Here. On this very bench. She had told him that her name was Frankie, and she was smart, not your average kid off the street, partially because that was on difference he had noticed between his lifetime, and that of the world here. There didn't seem to be so many kids just running the streets from early ages.

He had seen the street gangs of this time, and he was unimpressed, and tempted to in fact re establish the old gangs. The type that he had known. Street Gangs that had some decency, and self respect.

Anyway, Frankie was a smart girl, and a runaway. She had tried to bum a smoke off of him, and while he'd given her one, he had still verbally wagged a finger at her, warning her about how it was bad for her. She just smirked at him, "Yeah? Ain't never heard that before."

She had a strange way to her, a strange way of seeing things. Sometimes she would speak, and Al wouldn't know what to say. She told him her life story, how she'd run from home, and she wasn't about to go back to her parents for nothing. She slept on that bench, declining all offers he made to let her have one of the numerous spare beds in the White House, "There's other folk what need the room more' n I do, that's for sure."

"Yeah, but I'm not friends with all them."

"What makes you think you're friends wiv me?"

"Uh, I don't know... we're still talking."

"You may know an except of my life story, sir, but you don't know me or my purposes here."

"Well, I know that it isn't to sneak in to my house, and steal all my silver, and candle sticks, otherwise you'd jump at the chance to get in my house."

"Unless I'm smarter than that and I'm luring you into thinking I won't take your stuff."

She would sometimes criticize his political actions, and he didn't mind when she did it, as opposed to other people, because she did it in a way that made him feel like they were talking about another President, not him, and they were just two normal people, questioning their government. Frankie wasn't an extremist to either political party, either, which he found odd, due to the fact that most people in this city seemed to be very Liberal by means of politics, even if they didn't know why.

She listened to him, and to others, and created her own opinion.

Then one day she was just gone.

She wasn't on her bench, and she was never there again.

Al came to miss the strange little girl that slept on a bench, and accepted only small bills from him, and never anything more, and seemed somehow happy with her life.

He often wondered what had happened to her.

There was a sound like someone moving behind him. Al looked back over his shoulder, and saw nothing but shadows under the trees, and he figured it was probably just the woman who pulled her belongings along be hind her on a large snow disk. That one was a strange bird. Not so strange as the middle aged woman in the white sweat suit, the one with the stick she carried around, with a sock tied to it and who smeared grease paint on her cheeks, like some sort of pagan priestess.

That lady sorta scared him.

When Al turned his eyes back to the Castle, and found himself staring into the eyes of Omar. Al let out a surprised shout, nearly falling from his bench.

As per usual, Omar was unflinching.

"What're you doin' here, kid? It ain't safe out here at night," Al got up, and took a hold of Omar's hand and said, "Ok, I'm talkin' to a mute... Come along, kid, you can stay at my house tonight. Where you been anyway?"

Omar didn't answer of course, which just led to a sigh from Al, and refused to move his feet, which was partially answered by that same sigh.

Al kneeled in front of Omar, "You can't stay out here alone, 'cause you're just a kid, ok? You come with me now."

Omar's head tilted ever so slightly to the side, but he still didn't speak. He looked from Al, to over Al's shoulder.

Al started to follow the line of sight,but was stopped cold by a blunt force to the back of his head.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN FINALLY UPDATED! **

The bag was snatched off his head, and the light nearly blinded him. He couldn't see anything past the light.

"President Capone," said a young male voice.

"Uh... you..." Al said, hesitantly, "this would be easier if I knew what to call you..."

"Of course it would be, but we don't need you knowing who we are."

"Have I been kidnapped?"

"In a manner of speaking... but it was far simpler than we assumed it would be," said the english voice.

"Yeah... Using a small child as bait... That's really the honorable way to get what you want," Al snapped sardonically.

The younger voice chuckled, "I don't believe you have much room to discuss honor, Mr. President. Anyway we wanted to talk to you."

"You know there's easier ways to do that... You could just arrange an appointment."

"You seem to be under some serious misconceptions about how difficult that would even be," the youth said, "especially in your case. You're a less social president than most."

"Also, we want no record of this conversation ever taking place," the brit said.

"If you guys just wanna jaw... Why am I handcuffed to a chair?" Al snipped.

"We don't want to take any risks."

Al rolled his eyes, "What do you want to talk about?"

"Your relationship with Kahmunrah seems rather strained to say the least," began the youth flipping open a file in front of himself.

"Hey! There ain't no kinda relationship between him 'n me," Al said through gritted teeth.

"That's not how we mean," said the brit, in an annoyed voice.

"You seem to not be his biggest fan we mean," the youth explained, "Now, we need to ask you, how far your dislike of him actually goes. Given the chance would you turn against him?"

"Turn against the man that owns the world?" Al asked as if he was talking to people not nearly as educated as he, "Yup, that's a genius idea... But I have admittedly done stupider things... What would I have to do?"

"What are the weaknesses in his defenses, in a worldwide sense?"

"I honestly don't know... I haven't gone looking for this information, but I'm sure I could figure it out. But you guys know what you're going up against right? The entire world will rain down in a rain of fire and iron."

"Are you with us or not?" The youth demanded, raising his voice for the first time.

"Yeah, jeez, hold your britches..." Al said, "You got a boat load of stocks in this or..?"

"You could say that," the teen stood up and came into view, "My name is Nick Daley. Larry Daley is my father, and you, Mr. Capone, are going to help me get him back."


	14. Chapter 14

**AN I do not own Firefly or Doctor Who... or I honestly have some actual money, and would probably enjoy my job a lot more than I actually do...**

**Anyway, here's an update. The character that is sorta introduced in this chapter is fun to write. She's been introduced in some of my other works, but as this is an alternate fanfic, she's not exactly the same person. I have to give Steig Lawssen some credit for her, because his character Lisbeth Salander has been a huge influence in a lot of my work.**

**As always, enjoy, and please review.**

"Tomorrow an operative of ours will come to you to aid you in the cause," said the roman miniature, who's voice Al had mistaken as british.

"You don't trust me?" Al asked.

"Do you blame us?" Nick asked.

Al smirked, shrugging. He could grow to like this kid.

"The opperative will appear to be an intern to your head of staff, Mr. Karr, who will be unaware that he will be receiving this new intern, but you will insist. Is that understood?" Octavius demanded.

"You don' to talk down to me..."

Octavius rolled his eyes.

A bag was put over Al's head and when it was removed he was standing alone exactly where he was snatched from. The heavy summer air was still with a lack of movement. Not even the usual nightwalkers were about.

Al began back home. He knew he wasn't ready for whatever he was going to face tomorrow.

He needed a drink.

0x0x0x0x0

The next day a young woman walked in and stood stiffly in front of Polly's desk, "I have an appointment with the President," she said in a clipped, slightly accented voice.

Polly smiled, and thought to herself that the girl looked like a pixie. Her hair was black and curled slightly, but was cut at jaw length in a shaggy crop. There were numberous visible peircings on her, and Polly admitted to herself that she had never seen anyone in these halls that looked so out of place. But the punk pixie seemed unaware that she wasn't the usual sort for this place.

She raised a peirced brow at Polly's hesitance to announce her presence.

Polly smiled awkwardly, and pressed the intercom buttom, ", your elevn o'clock is here."

"Well..." Al's voice came over the speaker, "show'em in..."

Polly rose and smiled again, "this way..."

The small woman followed Polly into the oval office. A pair of gangsters lounged on the couch, playing a shooter game on the PS3, while a few others, sat in the missmatched arm chairs scattered about, doing matinance on their machine guns. They all looked at the new girl with varying degrees of interest.

Al's head lay on his folded arms on the desktop.

"Mr. President?" Polly said softly.

Al peered up, squinting, clearly hung over, "You are..?"

"Jane Canton, sir. Your new intern," the pixie said indiferently, yet clearly unimpressed by Al's state.

Al studied her a moment before sitting up, "Jane you say?"

"I did."

"Leave us, Murphy."

Polly gladdly withdrew from the room.

"You're early," Al said.

Ni was eager to begin."

"Are you not anymore?"

"Not when I see what a piteous state you are in. Most people wait til the weekends to drink their livers to extinction."

Al smirked, "I was not so eager to begin..." he said in musing voice, still studying the girl, "have we met before?"

"Of course we have," she scoffed, practically rolling her eyes.

"You're Frankie from the park! I thought so... your face wasn't so..." he itched the side of his nose, where hers was peirced.

"I didn't take them out before I left HQ. Will they be a problem?" Before he answered she said, "good, because I'm not changing my appearance for your sake. We can't all look like Polly Pocket out there. Also, while I work here, refrain from calling me Frankie. While I'm here, my name is Jane Canton. Understand?"

"Alright, Babydoll."

Canton's eyes narrowed dangerously, "You will address me as Miss Canton."

Al smirked, "Miss Canton... that's cute..."

"No. It's professional."

"Ain't we friends?"

"I don't know whati did to mislead you, sir." She noticed the small cowboy by the desk and apparently knew him as they exchanged greetings until Karr raced in.

"You're replacing me?" Demanded the breathless man.

"No, she's just an intern," Al said, groaning at the loud noises, "will you cut down on the yammerin'? This's Jane Canton."

"Jane Canton?"

"Have you met?" Al asked, looking to Canton for any signs of recognition, but saw instead a sly smirk.

"So you watch Firefly?"

"And Doctor Who!" Karr proclaimed, and turned back to Al, "Sir, you must throw out this imposter!"

The president smirked, "I dunno, she's pretty cute... I think I might keep her around..."

"I have a boyfriend," Canton said, annoyed.

"And I have a tiny cowboy in a cage," the President said, noting Canton's look of 'What..?' he clarified, "Oh, sorry, I thought we were talking about irrelevant things. Burn! Guzik! Up top!"

A mildly rotund jewish man dropped his gun and scrambled over, high fived the president, and then scrambled back to his gun.

"You see what I did there?" Al asked leaning back in his chair, "I made a joke. It's a joke because its funny and because it's true, but I don't think I really needed to explain that..."

Canton moved closer slowly, and Karr was reminded of a feline predator. She leaned across the desk and motioned Al closer, and she snatched his tie tightly in her fist, "You make a pass at me again, and I'll personally remove yer liver with a spoon, and as you come to work drunk, I think it's safe to assume that that is an organ that you use often, and need."

"Oh..."

She released him, "That being said, can I get you anything?"

"Um, Coffee?"

"Sugar?"

"I have some here..."

Canton walked away.

"She scares me," Karr said.

"Yeah... that's weird."

"That's she's scary?"

"That I'm agreeing with you."


	15. Chapter 15

"So, I heard you got a new intern," Amelia said casually.

"Yeah..."

"I heard she's a real smartie (cute girl)."

"She's alright..."

"'Alright'? I don't think I've ever heard of a young woman that you'd call simply alright... except for young Bertha in the kitchen staff..."

"Amelia... if I told you I'd given support to a potenially terrorist group that opposes Kahmunrah... what would you say?"

"Is that what you're so busy thinking on?" She smiled, "its bout damn time they got you, anyway."

"You're with them?" Al said, and suddenly everything made sense. The sudden realization hit him in the face like a car door knocking down a bicyclist.

"Of course. They contacted you because I vouched for your person."

"Well why'd ya go and do a thing like that?" Al demanded, getting up and pouring himself a drink from the sideboard, downing it, and pouring another, "Don't you know the trouble you've got me into?"

"Trouble?" Amelia scoffed, "Al don't exaggerate. I saved your skin. They'll win, as the good guys always do, and they would have put you down as soon as they had. "

Al was given pause by this claim, "Saved my life?"

"Indeed," she said suppressing an exaserated sigh. Her slim arms folded over her chest.

He looked at her, "You didn't want me to be put to death or imprisoned?"

"How simply must I explain this?" she asked.

"Just a dash more... I want to be sure I understand. You were concerned for my safety? So you could argue that you care about me."

Amelia's eyes narrowed, "You go too far, Mr. Capone, with your assumptions."

Capone moved nearer to her, leaning against the table beside her, "I don't think I do, madam. All I said was that you cared for me in someway. I didn't specify if the care was akin to the care one would feel for a brother or cousin or friend, which could very well've been meant. But you chose to become defensive, and understand it as a care that one would have for a life companion. You put your own interepratations on the phrase. You chose an interperation of more than friendship."

"I mean less than that, sir," Amelia snapped, standing.

"Then why save m' ass?" Al asked, clearly enjoying himself. It was then that Amelia noticed Al was slurring his words.

Amelia started away from him, and as she did so, she was stopped by Al's hand grasped firmly around her upper arm. Her hand was pulled slowly up to his face. He kissed the back of her hand, "Well I care about you. And I care more than I'd care about a friend."

"Do you?" asked a furious Amelia.

"Yeah... I mean, ain't it obvious?"

"No."

"Y' gotta be kiddin' me," he stroked the back of her hand.

"I do not _kid, _Mr. Capone."

"Oh, 'course not," Al smiled, "You're so very serious all the time," he touched her face gently.

She didn't move away from him. She tightened her jaw, but she didn't move away.

"Yer cute when yer angry," Al smiled. It was a real smile. He leaned in and gently kissed her lips, and it changed everything.

It made him somehow different in Amelia's eyes. He was tender. Not rough or forcing. He released her entirely and stood in front of her, "I love you, Amelia."

She scoffed at him, "What gives you the right to claim to love me, or anyone?"

"What gives you the right to ask? Because I'm not yer average fella? I ain't made of stone. Believe me, this wasn't exactly on my to do list. I don' wanna like you. I don' wanna love you. If anything, this complicates things that I'd really rather have uncomplicated."

She glowered at him, "You likely fall in and out of love like a plane falls in and out of the air."

"Why are you so contrary to me?" he demanded, "I'm confessing emotions that I honestly wasn't sure I could even really feel til I met you, and you... Oh YOU! Yer so damn infuriatin'," he stormed from the room, snatching the decanter of scotch and taking it with him.

The door slammed shut behind him and Amelia, shaking, fell to her knees. She sat there, shaken by the President's confession. Until that is, she began to giggle. She felt a warmth inside her that she hadn't felt in years. Not even when she was with Larry Daley.

She had forgotten how it could feel to make a man run circles around himself. Amelia rose and went to her room, right across the hall from the President.

He'd given her the nicer room, the better bed, the view of the potomac, and the balcony of her own. He'd not once tried to get into her room, with her in it or otherwise.

What was the sign of a man's affection if not the lack of willingness to take advantage of the situation Amelia was in? He had spent thousands of dollars on a monthly basis to be sure she felt comfortable.

Amelia glanced at the door.

He hadn't yet lied to her either, so far as she could tell, nor had he had a reason to.

The First lady lay in her wide empty bed, and turned over thoughts of the charming crimelord across the hall.


	16. Chapter 16

"Capone!" Canton yelled, "Are you even listening?"

"Yes," Al snarled.

"What was I sayin' then?" her grey eyes narrowed behind her chunky black framed specs.

Al's jaw tighted, "Alright, I give. I wasn't listening. So sue me."

"I knew they shouldn'ta got you. I said Napoleon, but no one listened to me. They never do."

"What're you so sour about?" Al demanded, "You weren't so mean when we first met."

Canton shuffled her papers, "It was my mission to see what you were like, whether you'd join us or not, and how easy it would be to get to you. Every moment I spent sitting next to you, I wanted to kill you."

"That seems a little... intense..."

"You worked for the people that-" she looked at him, "That ruined my life."

"Really."

Canton sighed, clearly annoyed, "Never mind that. Now, back to work," she started at the maps that showed the lay outs of every one of the axis' facilities.

"What's they do to you, huh?" Al asked.

"It's none o' yer concern," she snapped bitterly.

"Did Kahmunrah break your heart or something?" Al asked jokingly.

The glare she sent at him over the top of her glasses had him convinced it was something of the sort. She looked back at her maps, especially the one that was the layout for Kahmunrah's palace at Karnac. She seemed especially focused on a detailed section of the map. Al peeked over her shoulder at the map.

"'Dungeons'?" Al asked, "You plannin' a rescue or somethin'?"

The pixie scowled, "None o' yer damn business. It's late. I'll see you tomorrow," she began rolling up her maps, and she left.

Al turned off the lights in the office, and went to supper, where he was late again, and where Amelia waited.

"What do you know about Jane Canton?" he asked.

"I don't know of anyone by that name," said Amelia, puzzled.

"Ya know, my new intern..."

"Oh, Kara! Well, she's a sweetly sardonic child," Amelia smiling.

"Sardonic, i see. Sweet, not so much."

"Well, of course not."

"Why is this obvious?"

"Well, you disappeared her boyfriend, Al."

"I did not! I never disappeared anybody!"

Amelia rolled her eyes, "When Kahmunrah gave you North America, and most of South America, he did so with the the exchange of a certain young man..." she prompted him.

"Ahkmenrah had a girlfriend? Who works for me?"

"Yes, though I would say she works more for me than she does for you," said Amelia, somehow cheerful.

Al tossed his utensils down, "Well, goddamn, Amelia, don't you think that you could've brought it up a little sooner?"

"I'd assumed you'd figured it out already..."

"Well, i wasn't!" Al sulked, glancing at Amelia, "What the hell're you smiling at?"

"Hm. Nothing..."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?"

"A little bit," she smirked at him.

Al shifted in his seat, leaning forward, "You're a funny sort."

"No, I just hate you. And so, I enjoy you being made on pins and needles fills me with a sense of enjoyment."

"Well, then if you hate me, I'll eat in my room. I wouldn't want you to be made uncomfortable," he walked away, plate in hand.

Once the door closed, she tossed down her fork, feeling the cold hand of loneliness curled its fingers around her throat. She stood up, leaving her food half eaten. He had given in too quickly, and she was cross with him for it.

In her room, she dressed for bed and paced nervously about the room. She was lonely. It was simple as that. She rarely left the house, and it wasn't entirely outside of her control. There wasn't any reason to leave the house.

She was content.

Even if she was lonely.

Amelia was overtly aware that the solution to her loneliness was right across the hall, and it wasn't an uninviting idea. She had to wonder if he hadn't planned this, but it didn't seem like it would be his mode of attack.

Yet, somehow she found herself in the hallway outside of his room. She felt as if she was moving by a will outside of herself.

On the floor by the door was his dinner plate.

Her fingers wrapped around the knob, which felt cold and heavy in her hand. Colder and heavier than anything she had ever held.

She peeked into the darkened room. She could just make out the form of Al, sprawled out in bed, passed out. A bottle of gin was on the bedside table, only a fourth full.

Al snored lightly, smelling more than slightly of the liquor that gleamed in the moonlight.

She moved forward, still feeling like something outside of her body moved her. She was so used to seeing Al dressed to the nines, that she was partially shocked to see him dressed only in silk pajama bottoms. She had always been aware that he was a broad man, but she had never fully understood just how well built he was.

The understanding was the last thought she had before she fell asleep.


End file.
